


Taken

by Miss_Lv



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Aggression, Claiming, Come Marking, Comeplay, Consensual Non-Consent, Consent Issues, Fauns & Satyrs, Feral Behavior, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, M/M, Mating Bond, Nymphs & Dryads, Possessive Behavior, Scent Marking, Size Difference, Size Kink, Virginity, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 23:26:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16207877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Lv/pseuds/Miss_Lv
Summary: Nymph Newt gets snatched up by the handsome satyr Percival.





	Taken

**Author's Note:**

> Smut. 
> 
> Just some sassy kinky smut.

Newt knows immediately that he should stay right where he is.

Standing on the edge of the meadow, he has a basket of fresh berries and the sun is beginning to fade. The herd is in sight and among them Newt will be safe for the night. It’s a clear night but fall is descending and so the night brings a chill. When that cold seeps and the sun leaves more early is when the seasons change begins and the satyr rut starts. Its when the forest becomes much more dangerous for the unmated nymphs and fauns.

Newt heard the soft call again, something just inside the forest. A hurt creature in pain. It was more than likely a trap of some sort, set to snare him. The meadow was the safe place to be, outside it was perilous. To leave the meadow was to accept that risk. Newt chewed his lower lip, knowing he should head to the mother tree and ignore the cry.

But his heart had always been soft for creatures. He spent a great deal of his time looking after them and mending those who were hurt. Many had learned to come to him when they were injured, knowing he would help them. That was what worried Newt, the fear that it was a creature he knew, just out of sight calling for his help before darkness came.

Newt’s mum was a nymph and Newt took after her with long smooth legs and not more delicate faun hooves. Which was unfortunate since fauns were much faster than any other creature. That meant Newt had to be extra careful to avoid being lured. He would be targeted more than others with his flat feet and slow run. Satyrs would try all sorts of things to coax or trick a faun or nymph away from the safety of the meadow. Newt looked back to the meadow and in the center stood the great mother tree, many dryads resting in her branches. She was very ancient and powerful and her magic made the meadow safe. So as long as the herd kept within it, the creatures of ill intent could not get them. Satyr were far from the worse thing that lurked within the forest, they hunted for mates not meat. But they still hunted and Newt had no intention of being caught and mated.

Fauns and nymphs would disappear around this time and in the spring they would return heavily pregnant, bonded to their satyr mates after spending the winter with them. All nymphs were born for sex in a sense, able to use it to lure humans and to coax most creatures to let them be. Satyr were different though, the young ones fucked just as eager but when the rut season came the older ones would stop hunting game and begin hunting mates. Driven by the need to catch and breed a mate. Some nymphs liked it, fauns too were driven to be bred eventually and would go wandering in the forests to find a sire for their young. Newt was a mixed blood, nymph and faun, some satyr in there as well likely. One day he would be called by instinct to go out and find a hunter but he had no such intentions today.

The feeble call rang out, sounding so weak and sad.  

Newt shifted on his feet and glanced back to the meadow, fauns and nymphs within sight as the began to find beds in the moss. A stream trickled through the open area, feeding the mother’s roots and many creatures were bathing before bed, splashing in the sun-warmed water.

He would be quick, he decided, close enough to call for help if he needed. On their own, nymphs and fauns were weak but in groups, they could siren call enough to drive any creature mad, able to make any living thing obey them desperately.

Carefully, he picked through the trees, eyes darting for danger as he looked around for the creature.

The wind shifted in warning and the scent came to his nose. Newt went still, eyes widening, before he darted back as fast as he could. Trying to reach the meadow with a warning cry on his lips. It felt a bit like slipping and falling hard, the sudden impact of something grabbing him from the air. A rough callous hand clamped over his mouth and another around his waist. Newt struggled immediately kicking and fists pounding uselessly. His teeth grabbed at flesh and he bit the satyr’s palm hard enough to taste blood. But the male would not give up his prize and Newt was carried off in mere moments.

The meadow seemed to be yanked away, growing smaller as Newt was hauled off. A satyr wasn’t built delicate and light as a faun was but he was powerful, able to carry Newt and run a hard pace for a great length of time. Until the meadow was long faded from Newt’s sight.

They stopped somewhere deep in the forest, where the light was fading and the night was rising up. The air turning chilled as predators woke to hunt.

“Let go of me!” Newt demanded the moment the hand over his mouth moved. They were too far away for him to cry for help. Even in his longest adventures, Newt had never dared go this far from the mother tree’s safety.

“Please let me go,” he tried again, switching tactics suddenly, filling his voice with the plea and all the power he had to allure obedience.

The satyr, Percival, snorted at him in amusement, reaching under a bush beside his knees and revealing a hidden entrance into a small cave. He led Newt and hustled him downward with Newt fighting stubbornly. He could be more savage, clawing at the males eyes and trying to call beast to help with magic, but Newt wasn’t that sort. Nymphs were animalistic in nature, at their core they could be vicious. Some liked seeing others in pain, leading humans into traps and such. Newt had never cared for it. Now that soft heart of his was sealing his fate.  

Newt still struggled as he was shoved down but in the end, he could only scratch at the male’s tough skin as he was forced into the darkness. The entryway was sloped and Newt slid down, scrambling to find his footing as he came to a heap at the end of the bottom. The satyr followed, seeming to know the darkness well enough. Newt felt a hand curl around his leg to hold him and then pull him over. He tried to kick the beast but the satyr was quick enough to move his head. He herded Newt towards the back and then moved to the entry, pulling a great boulder to cover the way out. Percival was straining to move it and Newt knew immediately that he would never be able to move it himself.

He blinked in the shadows, realizing he could see a bit. His eyes adjusting and he looked up to see many small shadow plants hung from the top of the cave, giving off a soft blue light. It was faint but Newt’s eyes could see enough, he was tucked into a den, the ground lined with many furs to make it soft. The rounded walls had dug in shelves filled with pots and cooking objects. Bits of dried herbs and plants were hung along the top. The satyr could just stand without hitting the roof, the area very small. it was meant to be used for sleeping and breeding, a safe place for new borns. Newt’s stomach twisted with anxiety, knowing he had been brought there for one reason. This male wasn’t just seeking sex, rather he was looking to impregnate Newt.  

He wanted a mate.

“I want to go home,” Newt said, voice straining with a raw honesty and all the magic he had to try and convince the male to let him go. “Please let me go,” he begged.

“You’d be a delightful meal for a demon or some night beast. Nymph flesh is a delicacy to them.” Percival replied lightly and Newt shivered. Most magical creatures lived in harmony with others but some preyed on other magical beings. Newt had seen a few in his lifetime, deadly monsters looking to devour him and anyone they could catch. The satyr earned their place in the forest by hunting such monsters. They were different from other creatures, from animal’s even, something in their eyes dark and terrible.

Newt had absolutely no urge to stumble on one in the night forest, when they hunted for meals.  

So he curled his arms around his knees, tucking into himself miserably. Percival watched him as he moved about the tiny space, taking his belt off and hanging it on a hook. Stripping away his loincloth so he was naked. His cock hanging and already stirring. Satyrs took after equines in their bottom half, sleek silky fur, muscular legs, hooves, and a long tail of hair. And a rather intimidating looking cock.

By his very nature, Newt’s body stirred in interest. He was born from lust and made for sex, his kind made to want carnal attention. Still, he made himself look away and press into the wall as far as he could from the male.

The cool night air made him shiver and Newt jerked when the wet heat hit his arm, trickling down over his body, soaking him. He twisted and tried to escape as the male pissed on him, spreading his scent onto Newt. But a rough hand cupped his neck and held him, the heady smell filling his nose. It was musky but not unpleasant at all, the heat felt nice on his skin and the smell woke his body even more. Before long he was dripping with it, his tunic soaked as he squirmed unhappily.

The satyr squatted down, pulling at Newt’s thin belt and yanking at the wet fabric. He pushed at the male, annoyed with him and his own body’s betrayal. Newt could feel himself going slick already.

Once he was naked, Newt made one last scramble for freedom, ducking under the male and trying to crawl to the entryway. His foot was caught in a tight grip and the larger male moved over Newt, using his weight to pin him. His hands ran over Newt’s smooth legs as he went, seeming fascinated with them. Many fauns were the same, curious of the lack of fur. But this was far different, far more lewd.

He sobbed out, trapped and trembling.

“Hush now,” the male rumbled over him, petting Newt’s sides and one hand reached under to cup his small cock. Newt quivered as he was groped, calloused fingers tugging on his cock until it was stirring and giving delighted reactions to the attention. Percival licked at Newt’s neck and shoulder like a beast, smearing his own piss and rubbing his skin on Newt, trying to get as much scent transfer as he could. He other hand lifted Newt a bit, the weight on his back rising so the hand could stroke down Newt’s chest and then find a nipple to tug on.

“It’s alright,” the satyr coaxed and Newt shook his head.

“I don’t want to be mated,” he protested feebly, feeling the male’s cock against his thigh, filling out quickly as he touched Newt all over. The male rumbled in reply, tone still soothing but hands taking what they wanted.

He sat up over Newt and cupped his waist, tipping Newt’s backside and pulling it so he could rub his obscene cock along it. Lazily thrusting at Newt as he whined out. Large hands cupped his rump and squeezed the flesh there, exploring as they wished. Newt could feel each rough touch working his body up. His cock hung hard and his hole was soaked with slick. Fingers teased and sound his entry and found the wet mess. Percival growled in delight, fingers rubbing at Newt’s hole.

Finger pushing bluntly.

Newt whined out, trying to get away as a finger pressed into him as it pleased. His body made to be soft and yielding as much as the male over him was made to be rough and course.

The finger pulled away abruptly and Newt blinking in the darkness was grabbing at the blankets as he was yanked up to his knees and the male shifted behind him. He expected the burn of his first penetration and yelped out when a warm wet heat overtook his hole. The satyr held his cheeks spread wide as he licked at Newt’s slick, tongue prodding hungrily, not caring at he slurped in his scramble to get all of Newt’s slick.

“O-oh,” Newt bit his lip and clenched his eyes closed tightly. Nymphs and fauns mated often growing up, they would often do this for one another. Licking and lapping. But it had always felt so delicate and lovely. Percival was much rougher in his attention, eating at Newt with a forceful desire nymphs and fauns lacked. Satyrs were said to love the taste of slick. Newt could feel the roughness of his face, scratching at his soft supple skin a bit. He was pressing in so hungry as well, fingers digging into Newt’s skin where he held him, such a beast. That tongue rasping so determinedly seemed to prove it even more. Percival pressing his face as deep as he could, touching and teasing without let up. Newt’s thighs trembled and his toes curled as he whined out, hunger truly beginning to stir in his body.

When the wet hot mouth disappeared two thick fingers replaced it right away, sinking into Newt harshly as he cried out. Satyrs weren’t known for kind mating though. Looking over his shoulder, Newt could see the wild gleam in Percival’s eyes even in the weak light. His mind half-feral in the need to breed, satyrs always a bit more animalistic than others.

Newt sobbed out with each wet shove into his body, he could feel them twisting and turning in him. The satyr’s other hand was running down his leg, exploring his smooth skin, seeming to like the way it felt. Calloused hands caressing his calf and squeezing at his thigh and backside. Both satyr and fauns were animals from the waist down, fur and hooves. Nymphs were smooth all over, soft and silky. Their wild natures were hidden under sweet faces.

When Percival pulled at his hole and pressed a third finger into him Newt cried out loudly, hips jerking. His hesitancy to mate was fading, lust over taking him. He was nymph after all, not some human scared of sex and big old satyrs.

“Don’t be so rough,” he requested and the male grunted in answer, eyes locked on Newt’s body, mouth smeared with slick still. The lewd wet smack of the finger moving filled the den, Newt’s hole soaked and steady dripping more as the fingers worked him. The friction inside his body feeling so delightful. Newt’s limbs kept jerking on their own, a knee-jerk reaction to the sensations being forced upon him. All his time with other nymphs and fauns had never been like this, so brutal and vicious. But it had never felt this good either.

Nymphs and fauns mated well with satyrs for a reason after all.

The fingers spread wide and Newt hissed as the burn as they stretched his asshole wide. Even still, the pain came with a flash of lust. And he whined when Percival pulled his fingers free, Newt’s body feeling suddenly empty. He understood now, why so many nymphs and fauns went complaint when satyrs caught them. The younger ones weren't looking for mates but rather just a fuck. They’d catch a nymph and force themselves on them right where they caught them. Newt had witnessed many times, nymphs and fauns right near the meadow, almost home and safe. Some fought viciously and some gave up with a breathy laugh, but in the end they always spread their thighs, their very nature to mate calling.

The satyr loomed over him once more, swinging a leg so Newt’s thighs were trapped between his muscular thighs. The nymph was still on his belly, quivering as he felt the thick tip nudging at his backside. Fear made Newt’s breath catch and he shook his head, trying to crawl away.

“Hush, it’ll be quick,” Percival assured him and Newt whines out fearfully still. He’d heard stories before, of how much a satyr cock hurt. Some fauns and nymphs never mated with satyrs, preferring the gentle sex of their kin, they feared this pain that much. Newt had seen the look of pain on his kin when there were first invaded.   

The head felt so wide and terrible. Newt trembling as it pressed at his hole, smearing slick and rubbing along it. It was far too big to fit however and he body refused to let it inside him.

“Relax, you’ll make it worse,” the satyr over him grunted and Newt hissed in reply and gave him a dirty look. He might not be a born warrior but he wasn’t going to just turn on his belly for the brute.

A sudden slap on his backside made Newt jerk in shock and indignation. He twisted his head to give the male a sharp word and then yelped when the tip of the massive cock pierced his backside. Looking smug, the satyr held Newt on the furs with a single hand on his lower back, easily pinning him.  

Tears filled Newt’s eyes at the sting of it, his hole burning as the cock forced itself in. Rocking a tiny bit forward with each breath it felt like. It hurt. It was a very unpleasant feeling but also not as terrible as he had feared it would be.  

Then the heartless satyr sank into him, pushing it deeper and deeper into Newt in a single smooth motion. He tried to jerk away but was held down as the beast made Newt take the entire length. Newt can feel when the male had to put weight behind his motion, making his way into Newt. He has no idea if he should be screaming in pain or pleasure, his insides feeling like they were being forced to make room. Newt was certain there would be a bulge in his stomach from the sheer amount of cock inside his smaller frame.

Percival’s hands take Newt’s hips in a tight, no-nonsense grip and then he slides back in a slow wet motion. The slick sounds loud, along with Newt’s gasping breaths, as the male takes his time. Three lazy motions, pulling back and then sliding back in, over and over, Newt’s body feeling wide and gaping as the cock makes a home inside him.

A soft whine that Newt’s never made before left his throat as he feels the male sink into him. The frictions inside him, the inward drag was lighting something inside Newt more brightly then he had ever known. He gasped out, lips parted as he clutched at the furs and felt the satyr grunt above him in satisfaction.

He began moving faster, hips swaying with intent as Newt gasped with each wet slap. Sweat was trickling down his brow and back, lust making him light-headed. Newt went up when Percival pulled him, onto his hands and knees. He spread his thighs eagerly and moaned when the new position let the satyr ram into him with more speed. Their skin met, Newt’s rump and Percival’s thighs kissing over and over as he was fucked ruthlessly. The satyr growling over him as he slammed into Newt’s body. He could feel himself losing, the resistance in him melting away with each lunge. That heavy cock making itself a place in Newt that would never fade, he would need it there again and again. Newt cried out louder, moaning and shoving back as Percival rushed to meet him. The larger male working so hard, thrusting viciously hard and hands biting into Newt’s skin.  

When he snarled out Newt sobbed, feeling the male yank Newt back and hold him tight. The satyr’s hips gave tight little motions as his cock throbbed deeply inside Newt.

Shivering, Newt could feel the male seeding him, pumping into his body to try and spark life. The entire cock was pulsing and it felt so divine.

When Percival let go Newt fell to the furs, gasping and whining unhappy, hips rolling demandingly. The head of the satyr’s cock was still lodged in him and it came out with a slimy sound, semen rushing free after it. Newt could feel it running down his thighs and he rubbed them together to explore the feeling, the seed a bit thicker than his slick. Still, Newt wanted more.

The satyr has twisted around, grabbing up a water skin and drinking deeply. Newt reached back with a leg and kicked the male right in his stomach, watching Percival choke on his drink, water running down his chin. He wasn’t usually so callous but lust was making him impatient and a bit feral feeling. When the satyr glared at him, Newt huffed displeased and lifted his rump to let the male know he wasn’t done. That took away the Percival’s frown, he grinned so charmingly as he crawled back over Newt, turning him on his back this time. His cock had gone soft but was quickly filling out again. Percival busied himself with pulling at Newt’s nipples, hands so harsh as he pulled the poor tips. His mouth replaced one hand, sucking and biting like an animal. A bite of pain made Newt jerk but the pleasure kept him for shoving Percival away.

Chewing his lip, he squirmed needingly, hips rolling as he waited for Percival to get back into him already. His hole felt empty now, craving that friction again.

Newt’s hands ran along the sweat-slicked back and shoulders of the male, holding on as Percival reached and guided his cock head to Newt’s body. It sank with far more ease this time, pushing into Newt’s entry and making him sigh happily. He felt a bit lost, his common sense so far in the haze of lust.

His thighs spread wide as Percival began to fuck him again, Newt urging him on as he whined out. Each thrust making his insides quiver so brilliantly. Newt hadn’t known sex could feel so intense, so all-consuming. Percival thankfully didn’t waste time, fucking into Newt good and hard once more. He leaned down and kissed Newt, tongue shoving into his mouth and Newt answered. Kissing back messily and licking at Percival’s chin, nipping teasingly as he was pounded. The pleasure sang high again, rising up and Newt cried louder, his legs around Percival's middle and his heels digging into his sides to make him move harder.

Newt was shoved up the furs with ever lunge, the satyr dragging him back down each time as he yanked back to ram home. Newt arched his back, the feeling of the cock sliding deep into him becoming too much. His hips rolled frantically and Newt’s cries grew higher. His breath leaving him as he felt his release finally come to him. Percival’s clever hand cupped at his little cock, rubbing along the sensitive tip as he ducked his head to bite at Newt’s shoulder. Pain and pleasure shoving him over the edge so callously. Newt sobbing as he came, body trembling apart as he was pulled by that heartbeat of utter pleasure.

Percival, the brute, kept fucking him once Newt went slack. Taking in shaky breathes as the male kept rutting into him. His thighs were spread wide as Newt laid there, letting the satyr ride him until he's finished a second time. Percival growling as he sank in deep and pumped Newt with another heavy load. His belly felt swollen with it, bloated with the seed inside.  

He pulled back slowly, the fat cock coming free with another little give, semen seeping after it. Percival’s fingers ran through the mess, rubbing Newt’s aching hole and pushing the seed back in. His fingers dragged it up Newt’s sweaty thighs, smearing it there. He gatherer more and rubbed it on Newt’s chest and up his neck, fingers pushing at Newt’s mouth. He had half a mind to bite him but laziness won out and Newt let him rub the seed in his mouth, salty tang on his tongue. He felt tired now, the snatching and mating taking so much from him and he wanted to rest now, settle in and sleep.

The wet seep splattered on his belly and Newt could smell the musk of piss as Percival marked him again. Spraying Newt down and smearing it with the semen on his skin, making him smell good and rank of the male. Newt shoved at him weakly, too tired to truly care as he turned on his side and curled into the furs. There were soaked but the heat of their union had warmed the den nicely. Newt yawned and managed a grumble as he felt Percival push his cock head back into Newt, lazily fucking him a third time as Newt fell asleep.

 

He woke to aches and pains all over, his poor backside throbbing sore. His chest too, Newt blinked his eyes open, bits of morning light through cracks at the entry enough to make the den much more visible than last night. Newt rubbed at his chest and found his nipples very tender. It was clear they had been played with while he slept. His lower half a sticky mess of slick, seed and piss. Newt shifted and frowned when he felt something coiled around him. Percival was slumped over him of course, half pinning Newt to the damp furs that now felt disgusting to lay in. When Newt wiggled out from under him, he felt the male’s soft cock come free from his hole, a wet gush of seed following. Newt crawled away so he could sit up, wanting a drink and a piss. He felt the pull again and frowned down at a thick rope wrapped and tied tightly around his waist. It was snug but not painful, tied at the smallest part of his middle the knot done up at the small of his back so he couldn't reach it properly. It was tied tightly as well, the robe burned a bit to melt it into a lump that wouldn’t come free. Newt followed the rope and found the other end around the satyr’s middle, the knot burned as well. Newt gave it a yank and the beast didn’t even stir. Frustrated, Newt hit the male’s shoulder and shoved at him but the big idiot slept on. Satyrs were known for that as well, always sleeping as if they had passed out. Newt wanted badly to kick the male in the head a few times, his bladder wanting to release. A mean part of Newt thought to piss on the male in revenge but knowing satyrs, Percival would probably like it. The nymph urges to be violent often muttered at him, but Newt never followed them and so he left the male sleeping.

So Newt looked around the little den, checking shelves for something sharp to cut the rope. There was nothing of course. Percival must have knives for hunting and such but Newt turned the small place over and found nothing. They were probably hidden outside the den.

Newt glared at the male, thinking he might stick him if he had a knife. His mind very angry with the male who had so cruelly claimed him. Even still, a part of Newt knew he wasn’t going to do anything truly mean to his new mate. But he could certainly imagine it, giving the brute a mighty kick that knocked him right over. Newt smirked, letting that wild thing in him dream as he looked around the den more.

There was a great deal of dried meat and fruits in a bowl on a shelf, water skins filled with fresh water that Newt gulped down. Finally, he found a clay pot with a lid and when he inspected the inside it was cleaned but the faint scent told him it was a winter pot. For when the storms were too heavy to leave the den. Red-faced, Newt turned his back to the sleeping male and relieved himself into the pot, the scent of his piss filling the small space.

That of course, woke the satyr up. The male yawning and stretching out languidly as he woke. He looked for Newt immediately and a tension in him relaxed when he found the nymph glaring at him as he closed the pot. The male’s gaze lingered on it and Newt didn’t even want to know what he was thinking.  

“I want to go outside,” he announced stiffly.

Percival nodded, looking contrite now as he got up and moved the boulder blocking the way out. He went first, head lifted high to look for danger before he moved and turned to let Newt follow. Newt ignored the hand offered to help and crawled out. The rope hung between them and Newt gave it a dirty look as he stretched his arms to the sky and lifted his head to greet the morning. He jerked when he felt the warm stream hit his leg, whirling to hit at Percival’s chest as the satyr pissed on his leg.

“Stop it! You’re terrible,” Newt scolded, resenting that he felt a stirring in his belly for that musky scent and the sight of that thick cock.

Percival did look a touch apologetic but it faded quickly.

“I need to scent mark you, you still smell like a nymph. You’ll call other satyrs to us.”

“Good,” Newt grumbled, looking around the forest in the daylight now. It was a nice spot actually, a babbling brook not far off with fresh water and plenty of trees covering the little clearing, just enough room to lay about and sun. The trees were scattered enough that nothing could sneak up on them, it was a good place to raise little ones. It was a serene area for them to settle he supposed resentfully. There were large boulders with moss growing over them, the sunlight already warming them and Newt was tempted to curl up on one and nap for a bit. But his annoyance and anger still lingered.

“I hope a whole group show up.”

“Newt,” Percival huffed and the nymph glared at the ground instead of facing the male. Looking away when Percival came closer and tried to catch his eye.

“You said you’d wait!” Newt snapped finally, feeling very cross with the male. “You promised.”

“I tried,” Percival replied. “I wanted to wait as you asked but I couldn’t help it. Another year was too long.”

Newt shook his head unhappily.

“I still had lots to do! Theseus and Tina must be fretting and all my poor creatures. I was supposed to be helping with gathering this year as well.”

“They’ll find someone else to help. Your beasts will be fine without you, safe in the meadow as they are. Just think too, now that we’ve mated I can take you to find even more creatures to baby.”

“You promised,” Newt replied vexed.

“And I couldn’t wait,” Percival insisted, going down on to his knees and twisting Newt to face him. “I’m sorry, flower, but I honestly couldn’t wait. When you came of age it was all I could do to hold back. Then the year passed and you wished for more time and I wanted to give you that. But you take too many risks.”

Newt snorted and Percival growled, teeth snapping warningly, a satyr provoked. Newt hissed in reply, a nymphs warning sound, utterly unrepentant. They were both showing their feral natures a bit, neither breed known for submission.

“You do. You’re half wild yourself and you wander the forests when you know not too. There’ve been males stalking you all summer, trying to find a way to catch you.”

“Then why did I never notice them?”

“Because I scared them off! I had to fight half of them to make them move on.”

Percival's calloused hands pet Newt’s hips, his skin warming in the sun and happy for the caresses.

“There's no honour among satyrs when it comes to mating season. I knew if any male could, they’d grab you up and mate you.”

“And you think I’d let them?” Newt asked and Percival hesitated making the nymph narrow his gaze at him.

“You’re….kind. Too kind.”

“You think I’d let a male just snatch me and mate me?”

“You just did,” Percival replied and Newt did hit him, giving into that wild urge in his chest. His fists whapping the kneeling male on the shoulder a few times. Newt knew his blows weren’t much, the satyr built to take far worse than anything Newt could do physically.

“I cannot believe you Percival! This is why so many of your kind only have one eye. I should have taken one of yours to teach you a lesson. Do you know how many nymphs come home late with a satyr eyeball because he was dumb enough to try and truly force? I only let you mate me because it was you!” He snapped and turned the stalk off, nearly winding himself when the rope stopped him short.

“Take this off! It's foolish and a terrible custom,” Newt growled, feeling very riled up still. Percival pulled on the rope, using it to pull Newt back to him.

“Percival,” Newt warned but the satyr looked determined.

“Hush now. I know you let me because you wished too, I know you can take care of yourself and you’ve an army of beasts that would come to your aid. I know that all Newt, but I can’t help but fear. I found a perfect mate and couldn’t stand to lose him.”

Newt’s heart fluttered, unwillingly softening as the male pulled Newt to him and pressed his face to Newt’s stomach, rubbing his cheek there.  

“I’m sorry I couldn’t wait love. But I’ve waited too long for you, I’m an old satyr who thought I’d never find a mate.” Newt had always thought the silver in Percival’s hair and fur was rather handsome. He was an older male but it only made him more distinguished and interesting. He’d first lured Newt by talking with him about creatures he had seen, using his wisdom when most males just tired to show off, waving poor dead creatures at Newt.  

“Can you blame me for not waiting? For wanting to meet our young more quickly.” Percival nudged at his stomach, both knowing it was likely Newt had already caught, nymphs were known for fertility as much as satyrs were for siring.  

Newt could feet his anger fading, the irritation that Percival had snatched him up after promising not too giving way. Under that was affection, a deep well of love. Most satyrs spent their youth chasing and failing to catch a mate. Some did succeed but learned an unhappy mate would just return to the meadow as soon as they could escape. It was only the smarter hunter who realized a willing mate was the key. That a bit of courting beforehand went a long way to winning a happy partner. Percival was one of such, he’d courted Newt since long before he was of age to take a mate. They suited very well and Newt had always planned to mate with him eventually. Still, it was very annoying to be snatched so rudely. Satyrs unable to deny that urge to grab and run. Most mates were still tricked or chased when the time came, a game to sooth the hunter in the satyr.

Newt felt his anger give way but he wasn't going to just let Percival off the hook that easily.

He narrowed his gaze at him.

“Untie me,” he commanded, knowing full well that Percival never would. That satyr were paranoid about new mates and stupid about keeping them close the first few weeks to establish the mating bond. As if Newt wasn’t already in love with the great fool.

But he deserved a bit of trouble, for stealing Newt so rudely.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm working on incubi and waheela fic, both near done! Others in the mix a well. This is just some smutty smut smut my brain decided need to come into being. Really, I just dig bit feral Newt. 
> 
> [My tumblr!](https://the-miss-lv.tumblr.com/)


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